The world no longer made sense.
Up was down. Wicked was good. Night was day.
None of it made any sense to Micheline even after spending several days traveling to the Vale of Mists.
Ashlynn had told them a little about the place they were going during the journey. The carriage ride from Maeril to the Vale had been incredibly comfortable in Ashlynn's carriage, which she had begun to think of as a sitting room on wheels.
She'd heard of towering stone walls, an ancient fortress, a city rebuilding itself, and a forest almost permanently shrouded in mists. She'd been told that the people were friendly, the rooms in the castle were comfortable, and that if she needed anything, Lady Heila would see that she was well cared for.
All of that sounded like a normal conversation, and a polite invitation from her cousin. If they'd been visiting Blackwell Manor, Ashlynn could have easily said the same things. But saying them didn't explain the world she'd arrived in.
